


Let Us Dance

by Mystical_Artist



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-09 23:37:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mystical_Artist/pseuds/Mystical_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Reese and Finch crash a wedding reception to stop their latest number. </p>
<p>Or</p>
<p>They were the only ones not on the dance floor. </p>
<p>The CIA had taught him many things, but unfortunately how to dance wasn’t one of them. </p>
<p>Regardless, Reese dragged a protesting Finch out to the edge of the dance floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Us Dance

**Author's Note:**

> Just a fluffy one-shot that's slightly sappy and silly.

John had never actually crashed a wedding reception before, but he shouldn’t have been surprised when Finch expertly strode into the party as if he owned the place, which, knowing him, he probably did. The billionaire had even gone so far as to buy the newlyweds an expensive gift.

He could tell by the wrapping of the other gifts that the rest of the guests had gotten something from Bed Bath & Beyond, but their present appeared as if it belonged at a royal wedding with the extravagant wrapping and fancy ribbons.

Their latest number had been one of the bridesmaids, envious of her best friend getting married to the man _she_ had wanted to be with.

The cliché-ness of it all made Reese choke back his own vomit in disgust.

He had managed to talk the poor girl out of her jealous rage and stopped her from poisoning the bride’s drink before the reception had even gotten started.

He hadn’t realized they were actually staying for the event, but when he saw the waiters come out with the food, he didn’t complain.

It wasn’t until dinner had finished and the dancing had started that he realized something wasn’t right. 

Reese glanced around, but didn’t detect any obvious threats. The bride and groom were happily dancing, as were the other members of the wedding party.

Then it hit him.

They were the only ones not on the dance floor.

The CIA had taught him many things, but unfortunately how to dance wasn’t one of them.

Regardless, Reese dragged a protesting Finch out to the edge of the dance floor.

“Mr. Reese, I hardly think this is necessary,” he said dryly.

John placed a firm hand around Harold’s waist and gently grasped his hand. “Come on, Finch. We were drawing attention by _not_ being out here.”

The older man gave him a disapproving look. “This is hardly appropriate. Besides, there are two ladies over there who are not dancing, either.”

Reese gave a brief glance over to the women and rolled his eyes. “One of them is in a wheelchair and the other has been glued to her oxygen tank this whole time. I hardly think they’re up for a round of the Macarena, Finch.” He leaned in closer. “Besides, I saw the names you put on the card for the gift. Mr. Harold and John Gull. Really?” 

Finch had the decency to look slightly sheepish. “It was the most feasible identity I could come up with in such short notice.”

John closed his eyes as they swayed back and forth. “Of course it was.”

He realized they must have made quite a site, with his two left feet and Harold’s limp making their attempt at dancing awkward at best.

They had both finally relaxed a little when Reese felt a tap on his shoulder. He stopped, but didn’t release his hold on Finch.

There was a young teenage girl, thirteen or so if he had to guess, with her two friends standing behind her trying to hide silent giggles. The girl who had tapped him on the shoulder looked at her two friends with a look of annoyance before she finally addressed him.

“Um, we just wanted to let you guys know that, like, you two are really adorable and, like, we wanted to know how long you’ve been together? Cause, like, you’re really sweet and, like, you know?”

Reese mentally flinched every time she said “like”, but gave a small smile at her anyway before looking over at Harold.

“How long has it been, Harold?” he asked in a slightly teasing tone.

The shorter man put on a grin of his own. “Two years, M... John. You should really know that by now.”

He rested his forehead against Harold’s and gave a flirtatious chuckle. One of the girls let out a squeal of delight. Finch dug his nails into Reese’s hand at the sound.

“If it’s not too much trouble, can we like, take your picture?” the leader of the pack asked, holding a camera in her hand.

She snapped a few photos before her and her friends scampered off in a fit of vivacious high-pitched giggles.

“You do realize those are going to end up on Facebook, right?” Reese asked as he coaxed Finch back into the dance.

“Yes, and I’ll delete them before they even have a chance to get there.” Harold said in reply. 

“Maybe I wanted a copy.” Reese murmured, giving Finch’s hand a light squeeze.

Harold gave a quiet snort of amusement and squeezed his hand back.

 

\----------------------------------

When Reese got to the library the next day, he was surprised to see Finch wasn’t there yet.

He poked around, but failed to find any hint of where his employer might be. He paused when he got to the computer desk as something caught his eye.

There was a picture taped to the upper corner of one of the screens showing the two of them at the reception, arms wrapped around each other and hands clasped.

He smiled and fingered the photo, revealing that there were, in fact, two copies taped to the screen.

Once he decided Finch wasn’t going to show up right away, Reese decided to explore the library some more.

He was fiddling with an old record player a short while later when he heard Finch come down the hall. Reese popped an old Chopin record into the player and placed the needle on it to play it.

The quiet piano melody filled the library, and he headed out to where Finch was with a pleased grin.

“Care for another round, Harold?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

Finch gave him a look of slight surprise. “You’re not very good at it, Mr. Reese.”

John stepped towards him and pulled them closer together. “So, teach me.”

The shorter man gave a dramatic sigh. “Oh, alright. First, move your foot back like this…”

They practiced and practiced, but Reese never did learn any real skill. He kept getting distracted by the thought of being “Mr. John Gull”. 


End file.
